Fallen
by Abandon Structure
Summary: They were angels once - angels that became sinners of the worst sort. They entered into the wizarding world seeking repentence and may have found destruction instead. AU/AR fic featuring Harry and his cousin  not Dudley
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Tired but can't sleep. It's just been one of those days. Hope yours is better! I'll post another chapter for this next week with a better summary. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I'll try and respond.

Chapter 1

Long.

Legs.

Blond.

Hair.

Blue.

Eyes.

Evil.

Smirk.

_Bitch_, Daniel Evans thought, watching her move through the crowd like a shark scenting blood.

His blood.

Leaning against the railing, drink in hand, he resisted the urge to run a hand over his face, knowing from years of experience that it'd take someone with more power than her to see through his disguise.

Of course, she could have grown in power since he met her last.

_Fucking leech._

Some people could have the world presented to them on a platter and they'd still want more.

_Buio Strega._

Dark Witch.

_Evil, evil, bitch._

Grazia Feroce was a striking figure in the crowd below, drawing eyes like a magnet draws metal. She was long, lean, and absolutely lethal.

Her eyes pierced you like a knife, only it was made ice, cold enough to numb the pain so you didn't realize you were dead until that last breath escaped.

She'd tried that on him, more than once. Oh, it'd take more power than she had to see through the disguise, but she found him, time after time. She was just good like that.

Oh, sometimes she missed.

The fact that he was still breathing was a testament to that.

"Are you ready?" A beautiful manicured hand invaded his line of sight, gently taking the drink from his closed fist.

Daniel gave the owner of the hand a distracted smile as he turned and followed her into the crowd.

"Where to, _kimosabe_?" Her mouth tightened ever so slightly, an obvious testament to her displeasure at his annoying tendency to call her by anything and everything but her given name.

"I can't tell you that."

Of course not. It was only his life. God forbid he knew what they were doing with it.

Another figure met them at the door, segueing seamlessly into their little party like they'd done so many times before.

"Did you get it?" Daniel spared the man a disgusted look. The question didn't even need to be asked; they wouldn't be leaving if he hadn't gotten it.

Their female companion said nothing, her eyes and ears devoted to their surroundings.

Another figure waited for them at the door, his arms crossed, dark hair pulled back in a loose knot at the nape of his neck, dark eyes that were almost as cold as the Ice Bitch down below.

He wasn't supposed to be here; they all knew that.

Tamiel eyed him with passionate disdain, bordering on disgust; as far as she was concerned he had no stake in this. He wasn't blood; he didn't matter.

Gadreel was a bit more laid back than his counterpart. That is to say, he understood the other man's need to be here. He just didn't like it.

Daniel didn't care; Sirius Black had been his rock for far more years than he cared to remember. He was on the short list of people Daniel would die to protect.

Of course, if he died, Sirius had promised to bring him back so he could '_kill your bloody stupid ass all over again._'

Oh to be loved.

Two bodyguards, three if you counted Sirius, but there were at least five more spread throughout the room, watching their retreat, covering their backs.

Just like Daniel hadn't come alone, neither had Grazia. Undoubtedly she had cousins posted around the room. The Feroce's liked to keep it in the family and with them, like with most purebloods, it was a literal statement.

Grazia's parents had been second cousins; undoubtedly her husband, whoever the poor bastard turned out to be, would be equally as close in relation.

He met Sirius's eyes in passing, the sentiment shared: _Goddamn Purists._

They were going to destroy everything, especially if they got their hands on…

"Daniel!" Tamiel, always Tamiel, never Tam or, God forbid, Tami, snapped, her brown eyes flashing as she stood in the doorway.

Her sleek form was clad in a blood red dress, her nails painted to match. A flower, carnation, also red, was carefully placed behind her ear, lending a delicate air that, to anybody who knew her, was absolutely laughable.

Gold heels, three inches, with ribbons wrapped up her shapely legs. She was beauty and brains and pure _bellitor_.

She'd been an angel once, or as close to one as Daniel could believe. It was difficult, picturing her as anything but the lethal killing machine she was. He'd seen her in action too many times.

"Where are we going?" He asked again, fruitlessly since he knew she wasn't going to tell him.

"Somewhere safe," was her simple reply. It was stupid, but he was grateful she'd said something at all.

They descended the stairs, a forced necessity; anti-apparation wards were spelled all along the perimeter. It was a measure of good taste; the sponsors didn't want someone accidentally crashing, literally.

In a pinch, Tamiel and Gad could easily tear down those wards to get them out of here, but it was an emergency procedure only. They didn't want to reveal their strengths lest the enemy find a way to make them their weaknesses.

"How many does this make it?" Sirius asked, moving to walk beside him as they emerged from the stairwell to the open air.

Daniel didn't say anything, merely giving him a look. It wasn't safe for them to talk, not here, not now.

Sirius's look back plainly stated that he'd been keeping company with the angels too long. He was starting to pick up on their annoying habit of being paranoid.

Course, as the saying goes, it's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.

"We're here." Tamiel stopped abruptly to punctuate her words, turning to face him, arms held out like a lover, inviting him into her embrace.

There were times he thought he had her figured out, then there were times like this. Gad and Sirius disappeared with a pop, Gad's hand wrapped firmly around Sirius's arm in the side-by-side apparation. Tamiel could have done the same thing. Instead, she hugged him close and he closed his eyes, breathing in her warm scent.

She smelled like lilies and rain and warm cinnamon. Like everything he could ever want in a woman.

It was a scent wasted on her. She was a woman in form only. The rest of her…

He'd been so long without companionship of the female sort, the last stolen bit almost six months ago, his body reacted like Tamiel had already said yes.

She'd offered, once. He'd been absolutely flummoxed.

"You…do that?" Had been his stammered reply. She'd stared at him, a serene mask that passed for her face, a faint twitch at the corners of her lips indicating her amusement with his reaction.

"We are fully equipped to mimic all necessary human functions."

That had done it. It was cold, it was clinical, it was nothing he wanted beneath or above him.

She'd catch him staring sometimes, though, and that smile would come back. He amused her.

Like now. His body reacting, pressed against her soft curves, she smiled as they disappeared.

And reappeared to the hoarse growling of a very angry Black.

"What happened?" Daniel moved away from Tamiel, all thoughts of her allure vanishing as he took in Sirius's all too feral expression.

Five years. That's how long Sirius had been in Azkaban for. That's how long it had taken for Daniel to find out what had happened and get him out.

It'd been a long five years.

Breaking him out of Azkaban had practically been a walk in the park; it'd only taken one Nephalim to get the job done.

It'd taken eight long months of refusing to cooperate with their plans and ideas to get them to do what he wanted for a change, but it was worth it. He would have waited eight years if necessary to get Sirius out.

He owed Lily that at the least, and so much more.

It was odd. His sister's husbands best friend was now his best friend, practically his only friend.

With what they were doing, they didn't have much of a social life.

"It's this place," Armeros stated, emerging from a back room, a clear potion bottle in hand, its contents bubbling a blue, almost violet color.

"This place being…?" Daniel trailed off, twisting his head to get a better look at his surroundings.

At first glance, it was a regular room. Four walls, three entrances. One led to another room, another was a hallway, the third, the one Armeros had entered from, led to a kitchen/dining room combination.

It was Daniel's second glance that had him swearing.

"Of all the places, you brought us here?" Here being, of course, Godric's Hollow. The last place any of the Potters had been seen alive. The last place Sirius had seen them alive, and had seen the little baby that was his godson before everything good in his life ceased.

Understanding his friends reaction, Daniel was more than ready to insist they move elsewhere, if nothing else then to escape his realization that upstairs and down a hall, his sister had died at the hands a deranged Dark Lord and his nephew had been cursed for a second time by cruel fate.

"We cannot move," Semyaza spoke, appearing out of thin air with an almost inaudible pop, the rest of the _quinque_ flanking her. On anyone else, Daniel would take the comment as a derisive assertion that wasn't necessarily true. Coming from Semyaza, however…

The others, they would occasionally mess with them. You cannot live among the humans for thousands of years without learning, and appreciating, some of their customs, not unless you were _Ceterus_, Other. Semyaza didn't.

She was the most serious minded of the lot, unyielding in her rules and obedience. She stuck with structure and planning; if she said they couldn't move, she meant it.

"Call off your dog, _G'ab Yeh_." Eligor's mocking lilt had Sirius shutting up faster than anything Daniel could have done. Both he and Eligor purely loathed one another, and Sirius would just as soon chew off his left foot than give the other man the satisfaction of, well, anything. The two of them practically fed off the misery and irritation of the other.

Just once Daniel would like to hear the snooty bastard call him by his _real _name instead some dumbass title.

"I am nobody's _dog,_" Sirius snapped, always eager to get the last word in. Eligor's lip curled all the more, his body turning towards Sirius, assuming a posture that clearly indicated a battle was about to occur, Sirius moving to echo his position on the opposite side of the room.

_Imbeciles_.

Daniel caught Ameros's gaze and rolled his eyes when the other _Malaakiyn_ grinned.

_Angels._

Fuckin' crazy, the whole lot of them.

Course, if you'd lived as long as they had in the presence of God, things either gain meaning, or lose it entirely.

Apparently _tact _and _manners_ qualified as part of the latter.

"Where is he?" Tired and hungry and in no mood to endure another one of Sirius and Eligor's legendary verbal smackdowns, he ran a tired hand through his gelled hair and waited for someone, anyone, to answer him.

"He's out back," Tamiel spoke, breaking the silence when it was made clear none of the others would.

He gave her a tired nod of thanks, a gesture she accepted stoic faced, her eyes following him as he trekked out the door and into the back yard.

Phoenix grunted at him from where he was sprawled on the ground, underneath an Oak, fingering what was no doubt a first edition _Iliad_, his gaze wary as he scanned their surroundings, alert for signs of a threat.

Dantanian nodded to him as greeting, a greeting Daniel returned quickly so he could avert his eyes. Dantanian's face was like the waves in the ocean, always rippling. If you looked at him too long you went crazy.

Lix Tetrax, the third and final occupant of the yard aside from the most important, was sitting cross legged in front of the ground, her gaze briefly dancing over him before returning to the chess board in front of her.

The action didn't go unnoticed by her opponent.

"Dad!" Jake was on his feet in a flash, his seven year old frame rushing forward and impacting on Daniel, the only welcome burden of the whole evening.

"Hey, kiddo," he smiled down at his son, taking in the tousled raven hair and big blue eyes and marveling, for the countless time, at just how lucky he was to have this precious miracle in his life.

"How'd it go?" Jake was still smiling as his dad released him and he stepped back.

"Great," Daniel replied, ruffling the kids hair. He wanted to give him a haircut, but Sirius had swindled him into letting the kid grow it for a while longer, at least. Sirius was under the impression that Jake would like long hair.

Daniel, having known the kid a bit longer, knew that in about a week Jake was going to be complaining about his ebony locks and making an appointment with Vapula to have it shortened.

"Did you get it?"

Exasperated – _what was _with _people and asking him that? _– he rolled his eyes, stopping on Phoenix to find him poised, waiting for the response. A simple glance told him the other two were just as eager for an answer.

"Yes, we got it," Daniel replied, pulling said object from inside his jacket.

It was a small cup, cracked and chipped, made of pinkish white stone with streaks of black. It was singularly unimpressive and, if you saw it all the side of the road, nothing short of sheer insanity would inspire you to scoop it up and take it with you.

Unless you knew better.

Staring at it straight on, Daniel saw nothing.

From the way Phoenix, Lix, and Dantanian were staring at it, they obviously didn't have the same limitation.

"It's real," Lix moved fast, too fast for the human she passed herself off as. One second she was on the ground, the next, she was hovering, her hand reaching out to touch the cup.

"Don't," Phoenix was there, grabbing her hand, pressing it down to her side, his eyes on the cup, his words for her. "You know what will happen if we touch it."

Lix blinked at the reminder, her rapturous expression morphing to disappointment, her hand dropping obediently from Phoenix's grip, her gaze falling to the ground in respect.

The cup hadn't been made special; in all likelihood, the one who made it so had just grabbed whatever was lying around at the time.

Runes were carved in the air around it, not touching the stone, but protecting it from further decay.

At one time, it'd held _Sangue di Dei_.

The _Anunnaki, _children of the Gods, had bled into the cup and made an unholy pact with its owner: immortal life in exchange for a child. _His _child.

If Daniel understood the legends correctly, he was holding in his hands the reason he and his son existed as they did.

That little, innocent looking cup, with its cracks and worn stone, had started a war far greater than the _Anunnaki_, mischievous as they were, could have ever comprehended.

"We need to put it somewhere safe," Eligor spoke from the doorway, his eyes carefully scanning the cup before looking away, like the mere sight had evoked bad memories.

For all Daniel knew, they had.

Eligor and the rest of his kind had many names over the millennia. _Malaakiyn _was one of the oldest.

_Anunnaki_ was simply another turn of phrase for _Malaakiyn_.

There was a very real chance that not only was Daniel holding the cup that started all this, he was also holding company with the original instigators.

**A/N**: I was really into creating this story for a while. It's not complete (not even close) but I thought I'd test the waters and see what you think. Review?


	2. Chapter 2

He was having the dream again.

Locked in his dirty cupboard, curled up on a cot with nothing but a thin sheet to protect him against the chill, Harry James Potter slept.

It started the same as always; a green flash of light and screaming.

He supposed there was pain, but he never remembered it. He never remembered the dream once he woke up.

The screaming stopped as quickly as it'd started, leaving him in quiet.

It was vast empty space, filled with nothing, not even him. He existed, yet, he had no form.

He hovered soundlessly, a dark cloud in a dark space, indistinguishable from the background until…._there!_

A speck of light, growing, multiplying, till it filled the air. Tiny little balls of knowledge.

Reaching up, he extended a finger to touch, to learn, and…

Woke.

Up.

"_BOY_!"

Eyes snapped open, he was momentarily confused by how blurry the world around him was, when it had been so clear only moments before.

Clear, and beautiful, and…

He reached for the dream, trying to call it back, to wrap himself in the warm comfort of sleep, but it slipped away yet again, leaving him in his harsh reality.

"_Child!_" Aunt Pentunia.

_Better than the Walrus_, Harry thought, reaching over and grabbing his glasses, double checking the tape over the nose piece to make sure it would hold before slipping them on.

"_BOY! Where's my breakfast?_"

"Coming!" Harry called back, emerging from the dark cupboard and squinting in the morning light flooding the hallway.

"_Move_!" Harry winced, jarring a bruised shoulder, as the cause of the bruises pushed past him, undoubtedly adding to his collection.

"Lazy, good for nothing, cretin," Petunia Dursley muttered to herself. They fed the boy, clothed him, gave him shelter and by the grace of God let him go to school and all they asked for in return was a little work.

Ignoring the sour look his aunt was sending his way, Harry went about making breakfast, carefully avoiding the horse faced woman as he navigated the kitchen like the expert he was. He'd been cooking for the Dursley's since he turned six, almost two years ago.

Bacon, eggs, and coffee appeared on the table in short order and Harry scarfed his portion down before Dudley could get greedy and eat all of the food _again_.

"School this morning, Dudders," Petunia pinched her son's cheek, smiling dopily down at the boy. "Do Mummy and Daddy proud."

"I will, Mum," Dudley lumbered from the chair, grabbing his bag and heading out the door.

"Boy, finish weeding the garden. I want to win that Best Landscaping Award this year."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry sighed, washing the dishes as he watched Dudley and his friends disappear around the corner.

He'd known the second he walked through the kitchen door and saw the time that he wasn't going to be allowed to go to school today. It was one of the first true days of summer and only a week until the Awards Committee came around for judging.

They were careful to keep him home only a minimal amount of days, so not as to attract the attention of Child Services. Dudley would make his excuses and bring home his work, only a firm talking to from Vernon keeping the boy from dumping all of Harry's homework in the mud.

That, and Harry's agreement to do all of Dudley's work for him. Though Dudley was a year ahead of him, Harry had no trouble handling the other boy's homework. He quite liked it, actually, since it was two more hours in which Dudley wasn't tormenting him.

He was out in the garden, working, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his back, when a shadow loomed over him, a stone statue dropping next to his hand, just barely missing crushing it.

Turning, he craned his head to look up at Petunia, waiting for an explanation. An attempted maiming, in the least, usually had a semi-intelligent reason.

"Work it into the design scheme," Petunia ordered with a wispy sniff. "That slattern in Number 7 had Gladys Gowl over the other day – the wife of Gib Gowl, you know, the head of the committee? – and she let it slip that they were judging heavy on lawn ornamentation this year."

Petunia sniffed again, as if the very idea offended her before motioning with a fluttering hand to the three boxes behind her.

"Sort through them and pick a couple to go with that one," Petunia indicated her choice with a sly smirk, as if the statue of a – was that a _fish? _– was the well-guarded secret to winning the whole mess.

"And the rest of them?" Harry asked, pushing to his feet and wiping his dirty hands on his dirty pants as he made his way to the boxes.

"Shove them in the shed," Petunia decided with another sniff and a nod. "We'll use them next year."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry responded after a few moments of silence in which Petunia made it clear she expected a response, or some sort of acknowledgement that she'd spoken, by glaring pointedly at him.

"Very well," she sniffed. "I'll be back around six. See that the garden is finished and dinner is ready."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry echoed his earlier statement, wishing silently that she would just leave already.

Sparing him one last disgusted look, she turned and marched to her car, muttering about his disgraceful appearance and how 'blood will tell.'

He wanted desperately to go after her, to demand an answer to that burning question: blood will tell…_what_?

He'd asked about his parents once: Vernon had hit him and Petunia had stared down her long nose at his cowering form as she derisively explained that his father had been drunk and drove straight into a telephone pole, killing both himself and Harry's mother.

It was where he got his weird scar from, a little lightening bolt on the left side of his forehead, usually hidden by a fringe of his always too long hair.

Given the few times he'd tried, since then, to garner more information from his less-than-charitable relatives, he'd come to the conclusion that it was best if he let the subject drop.

For now.

Someday, though…he'd be strong enough to find the answers on his own.

Watching Petunia pull out, he winced as she just barely missed the post box, her tires kicking up dirt and tearing at the carefully mowed lawn as, tires squealing, she raced down the street, blew past the stop sign, and quickly turned a corner, disappearing from sight.

_Good riddance_.

Turning his attention to the boxes, Harry let his small frame slump to the ground next to the first box and started digging through it.

The first thing he did was sort the statues into three piles, the Definites, the Maybes, and the Absolutely Nots.

The Definites were the statues Harry knew from experience would cause no ruckus with the Dursley's: plain, everyday, ordinary things like deer and birds and even a stone carved watering can.

The Maybes were in betweens, things like frogs and angels; sometimes the Dursley's had problems with them, sometimes they didn't.

The last pile, the Absolutely Nots, was unusually large. An Eagles body with a Lion's head, a statue of a man with a squad beard, holding a cup (Petunia hated square beards; they scared her almost as much as spiders), a man's body with an Eagle's head, holding a husk of corn, and an Archer with wings.

Three more statues lay in the pile, a naked woman, a naked woman and man having sex, and a unicorn.

Setting aside the seven statues that he was definitely _not_ using, he set about arranging the rest of them around the garden, careful not to crush the rest of his carefully manicured plants.

He finished the garden around five-thirty, placing the last statue in place before picking up the box containing the remaining seven and heading out to the shed.

The shed was already full of junk, but thanks to hard work on Harry's part, it was a well organized shed of junk.

Setting the box down in a wheelbarrow, he turned and went to the task of clearing a more permanent spot for it.

Knowing that Dudley sometimes came out here to smoke weed, having spent his fair of time cleaning up after him, Harry decided it was a good idea to hide the statues lest he end up cleaning up after his cousin again for a whole different reason (he felt vaguely nauseas at the thought).

Moving a box of genuine junk that Vernon wouldn't let him throw away, Harry set it aside and turned to pick up the box of statues only to stumble on a slightly raised floorboard.

It was stupid, losing his balance like he did. He'd known about the slight raise since he was five and he should have been able to anticipate and avoid it, but, as the saying goes, accidents happen.

And this one was a doozey.

The phrase 'it was like it happened in slow motion' did not apply in the least. One second he was fine, the next he was bleeding, having knocked a small handsaw from its place and slicing open his arm.

Pale faced and gripping his arm, he stumbled from the shed, leaving a trail of blood.

Inside the shed, the box full of statues sat, the blood Harry had spilt on them hitting the stone surface and disappearing _inside_ the figurines.

* * *

His eyes opened and laughter bubbled out, perverted and chilling, as he rose, eerily, only his upper body moving.

"What is it, Lahash?" Belial spoke, flipping through the latest issue of _Playboy_, his expression bored, barely registering the other _Grigori_'_s _movement.

"_Alal_," Belial paused, in the process of licking his thumb to turn another page. Cocking his head to the side, he stared at his companion, interested.

"Apollyon?" Belial questioned. It'd been centuries since his last contact with their 'leader', for lack of better term.

Since it wasn't in their nature to play nice, Belial was fairly certain he wanted to extend the absence by several centuries more.

Things were always more interesting with Apollyon around, though. And he had been getting bored lately…

"We've found him. He has awaken. He is here." Three sentences that did nothing to answer his question.

"I don't suppose it would do me any good to ask you to elaborate."

"_Nos solum sese. Ille hac. Ille evigilo._" Lahash loosed another high-pitched laugh, undoubtedly worthy of piercing a few eardrums, but that was _humans, _something they were both far from.

Belial let out a tired, yet amused, sigh. "I didn't think so. Pity."

He'd been stuck here with Lahash for far too long. Honestly, he didn't know why he put up with the other _Grigori_.

"Because we need him."

"Mephistopheles," Balial greeted the other man without turning around, his voice empty of emotion. Whereas Lahash exasperated and amused him, there was nothing funny about Apollyon's second in command.

"Balial," Mephistopheles moved around Lahash until he was standing in front of him.

"Is there a reason for the visit, or did you simply just miss me?" Mephistopheles stared at him for a moment.

"I'd almost forgotten why I didn't like you," was his rejoinder, followed by a tired sigh and a toss.

Balial caught it in one hand, its familiar texture inspiring him to straighten from his slump as his eyes took in what his hands had already told him.

"A shekel?"

"The _Aestiyroa_," Mephistopheles was matter of fact, but there was a element of reverence in his tone, in his eyes, as he, too, stared at the innocent looking piece of silver in Balial's hands.

There were thirty of them originally, thirty pieces of silver which brought about the downfall of a God born.

It hadn't turned out so well for them; already cursed, his death had not brought about the change they'd sought; a relief from the cruel monotony that came with existence, the weak amusement that the human's provided.

They'd been double betrayed that night, not only by their creators, but by their leader.

There was no hope, no redemption, not for them. Gravity had its hold and the only way up was down.

Unless…

"He's called a meeting."

"He?" Balial tensed, his every muscle quivering as he pinned Mephistopheles with a predators stare. _He_ met one of two people.

Lucifer had led the fall, had taken them from their life above and sentenced them to the suffering below, where the only pleasure left was to torment others as they themselves were tormented. For some, it was good life. For Balial, it was tepid existence. Oh, he had no desire to go back to what he was before; he'd experienced too much independence to go back to that slavery. Nothing changed though; mankind was as ignorant and easily manipulated as always.

Some days, Balial would give anything for a challenge.

The other, Balial would follow if for no other reason than the fact that He would raise his life to a more interesting level.

"Apollyon," Mephistopheles stated. "The coin will tell you when."

His gaze drifted to Lahash, who had fallen back into his bed, fashioned from a coffin, undoubtedly Balial's idea of joke.

"Bring Lahash. We have use for him."

He disappeared as quickly as he had arrived, without a sound, leaving Balial with a cackling idiot and a silver coin.

Staring down at the coin, rolling it around in his hand, he smiled.

There was nothing comforting, or human, about that smile.

Lahash laughed.

* * *

"Vassago."

Vassago snapped his head around, pinning Belphagor in his eerie, bright blue gaze.

"You've found something," Eligor spoke. They were in the kitchen, the three of them and Tamiel, who'd come for a glass of water for Daniel.

That was his job, what he did: he found stuff. People, places, things, it didn't matter. If it needed finding, he'd do it.

Sometimes they actively looked for things, other times, like today, it came to him, unwelcome and unwanted.

"_Alal_," Vassago stated, voice hoarse, expression edgy, his hands braced against the counter, fingers tapping as he turned his troubled gaze to their leader.

"Apollyon?" Eligor asked sharply.

Tamiel turned the water off, setting the glass to the side as she turned to face them, waiting for the response. Vassago closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating, frowning and shaking his head.

"No, not him. Another."

"Who?"

Vassago was quiet for a moment, his face taking on an odd expression.

"I don't know."

That, more than anything, caused the most alarm. Eligor was straightening, already sending out a silent call for the others, when Vassago spoke again.

"I don't know who, but I can take you to him."

"You can find him?" Tamiel spoke for the first. Vassago graced her with a humorless smile, bright blue eyes colder than the icy depths they resembled.

"I can find anything."


	3. Chapter 3

It was a regular house.

"You are certain he occupies this residence?" Vassago gave Caim a cold look; the question was unnecessary and insulting. Vassago wouldn't have led them here if it wasn't what they were looking for.

"Which one is he?" Lix, having been relieved from guard duty, eyed the two occupants of the yard with several doubts.

Neither of the males in front of her even vaguely resembled an _Alal._

Unless their plan was to sit on something…

Cocking her head to the side, she watched the older one dote on the younger one, his face glowing with perspiration and fatherly pride as the baby whale managed to kick a soccer ball against the fence.

"That's my boy! Manchester United, here you come!"

Considering that whatever the baby whale was doing seemed to require some amount of physical exertion, she was fairly certain the older walrus was delusional.

"Neither," Vassago spoke, interrupting her thought processes. "He's not here right now."

"If he's not here, then why are we?" Ornias complained, arms crossed and scowl in place as he acted the part of a petulant child rather than the several thousand year old being he was.

"This is his residence," Vassago snapped in reply, his patience limited. Belphegor placed a hand on his friends arm and shook his head. It wasn't worth it. It was never worth it with Ornias; he lived to pick fights and after several thousand years of coexistence he knew exactly what buttons to push to get each and every one of them going.

"So where is he?" Caim spoke again, his own patience waning. They were used to carefully planning their excursions; their heist the prior day had taken the better part of six months to plan and arrange.

An _Alal _awakening, however, was not something they could sit on and wait.

If they waited, there was a chance their enemies could get to him and turn him, an occurrence they could not allow.

An _Alal _had the power to destroy not only an _Anunnaki_, but a God themselves.

If they could get to him, he could prove and excellent ally. If their enemies got to him, he'd be one of their worst enemies.

If the Principalities got to him first, he was dead.

Vassago closed his eyes and concentrated, the others waiting with exaggerated patience.

Lix kept her eyes on the house, carefully scanning the surroundings, looking for any other of her kind who might be here on a similar mission. Belphegor was the only other member of their little scouting party to do so as well.

"In a car," Vassago spoke, breathing steadily through his nose. "Moving…here. He's heading here."

"If he looks like these two, I should think the only thing we should be worried about him destroying is his heart," Ornias muttered, ever the snarky bastard.

"Hush," Lix quieted him with a wave of her hand, her attention fixed on the car that had just pulled into the driveway.

A woman emerged from the front seat, tall and lean, the exact opposite of the other two occupants of the home.

A boy emerged from the backseat, cradling his arm, a white bandage stained red wrapped around it.

"Spilt blood," Belphegor murmured quietly.

"He doesn't look like the other two," Caim frowned. "He actually looks kind of…scrawny. Underfed."

"Abused," Vassago's mouth twisted into a grimace as the man cuffed the boy upside the head, sending him sprawling to the ground, a cry of pain echoing across the yards as the boy landed on his injured arm.

Even Ornias was silent, his hands tightening into fists as the man said something else to the boy before spitting on the ground next to him and heading inside, his son and wife following him, closing the door with a decisive snick.

"_Irrumator_," Lix snarled, starting forward only to be pulled back by Caim.

"We need to get to him," Lix started before Caim interrupted.

"Look at him."

"I am looking."

"NO! Look at _him_," Caim shook her, turning her back to face the boy who was facing them as he got to his feet, brushing his clothes off before, with a tired sigh, trudging back to the shed.

It took Lix a second, but even with the little light they had left in the day, the resemblance was uncanny.

"He looks just like..."

"Jake," Belphegor stated, grim faced. "He looks just like Jake."

So many thoughts were tumbling through her head, the least of which was vengeance and the most…

The most was a simple thought.

"We have to take him with us."

* * *

"It's one o'clock in the morning," Daniel stated, bleary eyed and less than happy with being awake at said hour. "This had better be good."

"You had a sister," Eligor started without preamble. "Lillith was her name, correct?"

"Lily," Daniel corrected, straightening upright as two things clicked in his sleep befuddled brain. Firstly, the oddity that Eligor was interested in Daniel's family at all. He had Daniel and his son, the only two he could possibly need. It'd been a fact of their rather tumultuous relationship from the start.

The second was that there was something about Lily that had agitated Eligor enough for him to roust Daniel at such an ungodly hour.

"She had a son, didn't she?" Daniel's heart clenched and he rubbed his chest absent-mindedly, trying to figure out just where Eligor was going with this particular line of questioning.

Lily's son…Daniel had never met his nephew, had never gotten the chance. Jake was born and Eligor found them, sequestered them. What little Daniel knew of his sister from that time had all come almost exclusively from Sirius or the history books.

He shouldn't have to read about his sister's death in some goddamn book. He should have been there, protecting her, protecting his family.

_Stop._

It was a sore point for him, one he couldn't afford to let himself dwell on. The past is in the past for a reason; learn from it, but don't dwell on it otherwise you'll only end up reliving it.

Just the thought of leaving Jake behind was enough to draw him back into himself.

"Why the sudden interest, Eli?" It was a testament to just how on edge Eligor was about this thing, whatever it was, that he didn't jump back with an immediate waspish reply for the grievous insult of a nickname.

"Your nephew, Harry, he was taken someplace safe after the attack, correct?"

"So the story goes," Daniel stated. For all he knew, his nephew could be dead right now.

It wasn't that he hadn't looked; he'd spent every spare second he had trying to find the kid. When he'd busted Sirius out of Azkaban, they'd teamed up and between them eliminated over half the country as potential sanctuaries for the Boy-Who-Lived. Daniel swore he wouldn't stop searching until he found him, but, almost eight years after the fact, things were looking pretty grim.

As the story goes, if you don't find the person quickly, you usually don't find the person at all.

"You found him." It was the only conclusion Daniel could reasonably draw from this ridiculous line of questioning.

Eligor's expression said it all.

They'd found him, alright, but something was wrong.

"Is he alright?" Daniel could deal with just about anything, but the one thing he never, ever wanted to deal with again was the death of family.

"He's alive," was Eligor's cryptic response.

"Tell me, does the name 'Dursley' mean anything to you?"

It jogged a vague memory, in the distant recesses of his mind, which had him frowning as he coaxed the memory closer. It'd been quite a few years and he'd learned, and done, quite a few more things to add to his memory banks. Some things just weren't as easy to recall as they once were.

_Dursley…_

"_No_." Eyes wide, Daniel stared in horror at Eligor. "Petunia?"

_Petunia? That son of a whore left him with _Petunia?

Petunia, of the disapproving frowns, sharp tongue, and vicious kicks whenever mum wasn't looking.

The taunts and the teases, the insults and put-downs, the bullying and fighting. Petunia absolutely _loathed_ all things magical.

And that was where _Harry _was?

"We need to rescue him." There was no doubt in Daniel's mind that it would be a rescue. No one voluntarily lived with Petunia Evans unless their were either insane, masochistic, or extremely like minded. And that bastard Vernon Dursley had been _extremely _like minded.

"We cannot rescue him," Eligor stated, stopping his pacing and staring at Daniel, a wild gleam in his eyes. "He is _Alal_. He could kill us."

"He's just a kid," Daniel stated after a moments adjustment. _Alal _meant Destroyer. If Harry was a Destroyer…

He couldn't have gotten that from his mother. Evans's lineage contained a lot of things, but that definitely wasn't one of them.

And it was unlikely it came from James Potter; Daniel had gotten a good look at his family tree. It read like a who's who of the wizarding world, but anything or anyone who could have the legacy of an _Alal _was not one of them.

You couldn't have the gift without getting it from somewhere; it wasn't something you could learn, at least, not without some serious dark magic. Considering Harry's living arrangements and the fact that he hadn't blown his relatives to smithereens, it was unlikely he practiced the dark arts in his spare time.

So where did he get it from?

_Irrelevant, dumbass_, his mind chided him. Sometimes, when he was thinking about a problem, he had a tendency to get sidetracked.

Now really couldn't afford to be one of those times.

"If you can't rescue him, I will," Daniel replied, getting to his feet only to find his way blocked by Phoenix.

"We cannot afford to let you go," Eligor was saying from a safe distance away, expression tight. "You are too valuable to risk losing to the _Grigori._"

Daniel's blood ran cold and he stared at Eligor, pale-faced.

"The _Grigori _are watching him?"

"We haven't spotted them yet," Vassago stated from the doorway, Ornias at his shoulder. "But it's only a matter of time."

"We can't let them have him," Semyaza stated, dry voiced.

"We won't let them have him," came Sirius's low growl from the hall. Vassago and Ornias parted, allowing the man passage.

Sirius entered the room and drew to a stop in front of Eligor, meeting the Nephalim's gaze dead on.

"I'll get him."

And since nothing would please Eligor more than to be rid of the wretched mutt forever, he let him go.

* * *

It was ridiculously easy.

You would think, with him being the Boy Savior and all, they'd have at least posted guards or something around the perimeter of Number 4, Pivet Drive.

Standing over his godson, sleeping in the dirt, curled up against the shed to ward off the nights chill, clothed only in dirty jeans and an equally dirty t-shirt, both articles too big for his slight frame, Sirius just barely kept his urge to commit his first true homicide in check.

Barely.

Scooping up his godson and turning to face his escort, he disappeared with a decisive pop.

Ensconced in the arms of one of his fathers oldest friends, Harry, fast asleep, relaxed and slumbered on, warm and comfortable for the first time in years.


	4. Chapter 4

Waking up in a warm bed, Harry's first thought was overwhelmed by pure panic.

_It had happened again._

Sometimes, when he was hurt or just generally in a foul mood after something the Dursley's had done to him, strange things would happen.

When he was little, it'd been simple things: a book he wanted to read would float down to him from a too high shelf, juice or cookies would appear on his plate from their respective containers.

As he grew, and his treatment by the Dursley's worsened, it became more noticeable. Petunia would cut his hair in a maliciously ugly style for school the next day: in the morning, it had grown back.

The first time they'd made him sleep outside, he'd woken up in the spare bedroom, wrapped tightly in one of Dudley's old quilts.

He'd been young enough and stupid enough to think his family had brought him inside; the weather had gotten pretty cold, after all, considering it was late August.

When he'd emerged from the bedroom, smiling and well rested, it'd caused pandemonium.

He'd been locked in the cupboard under the stairs for five days. No food, no water, just a snarled statement that Vernon would '_beat the weirdness out of you if I have to_' and a cold reminder that he lived with his relatives out of the goodness of their hearts.

"You will be normal, by God," Petunia snapped. "Or I will not have you in my house!"

He'd made a conscious effort since then to steer clear of performing acts of 'accidental weirdness' as he termed them, reminding himself that any comfort he might get from them paled in comparison to the grief that was undoubtedly sure to follow.

But here he was, in a nice warm bed, feeling far cleaner than he should, and unbelievably well rested.

Knowing that it was a Saturday and that the Dursley's usually didn't get up until later, he frantically groped for his glasses, deciding that if he hurried, he could make it outside and dirty himself up a bit before any of them woke up and found out what had happened.

As much as Harry despised his relatives, living with them was preferred over living with a foster family.

He remembered this one family, two boys and a girl, who'd been living with a foster family for a little over a year.

The girl, Anna, had been a cynical young thing, all scowling lines and cold, dead eyes. Harry had always wondered why she was so unhappy: she had a family that wanted her. In his eyes, there was nothing better.

He'd made the mistake of asking her one day.

She'd shown him the bruises. _All _of her bruises.

He'd been horrified; he was no stranger to a beating, Vernon had made sure of that, but until that moment, he hadn't been aware that there were worse ways to hurt a person. Harry had been grateful that he wasn't a girl, lest Vernon find worse ways to punish him.

Two weeks later, one of the boys, Peter, killed himself in front of the whole school.

Anna's knowing look, shot his way, quickly followed by the expected tears of a grieving sister, opened Harry's eyes to a whole other depravity of man.

He didn't want to go to a foster home, _ever_. So he played by Petunia and Vernon's rules, knowing that as far as bad things went, he could have gotten a lot worse.

He frowned now, unable to find his glasses before deciding he must have taken them off outside somewhere: stupid. Last time, Piers, one of the neighborhood bullies and Dudley's best friend, had smashed them.

Vernon had grudgingly bought him new lenses, but he'd paid for them with a broken rib and a threat that, next time, Vernon would make him use the shattered lenses, muttering something about glass in the eyes.

Slipping from the bed and placing his feet on the floor, careful lest he step on any of the many toys Dudley always left lying around, he blinked in surprise as, even with blurry eyes, he was able to make out the floor, clean and completely bare.

And wood paneled. None of the rooms in the Dursley home were wood paneled; Harry had cleaned all of them often enough to know this for a fact.

Getting cautiously to his feet, he took in the well lit room with faulty vision, coming to one undeniable conclusion: he was most definitely not in the Dursley's home. It'd never been this…inviting.

Despite the peaceful surroundings, Harry was panicking: he'd seen news stories often enough to understand the statistics of kidnapped children. Worse, he knew that aside from the Dursley's, hardly anybody recognized his existence, and the chance of them reporting him missing was slim to none.

What if he had been kidnapped by one of those bad men, the one's who liked to torture little boys? What if he hurt him, like Peter had been hurt? What if he killed him?

Harry was so caught up in his own panicking, he didn't realize someone was coming until he heard the footsteps enter the room.

His head jerked up and he flinched back, fully prepared to run God knows where, but like hell was he going to let them hurt him without a fight; they weren't the Dursley's, he didn't owe them anything. He could, and he would, battle them with his last breath, if it came to that.

But instead of a fully grown man-monster, he found himself staring, or rather, squinting, at a youthful face.

"Hi," the other boy chirruped with a cheerful wave. "My name's Jake. What's yours?"

* * *

Harry sat at the breakfast table, a first for him. Ever since he could remembered he either ate over the kitchen sink or in his cupboard, never sitting at a table, with other people.

The boy, Jake, was chattering happily away with Harry, pausing every once in a while to wait for Harry to say something, then continuing blithely on when it became apparent Harry wasn't about to break his silence anytime soon.

Jake was okay, Harry decided. Aside from talking too much, but then again, Harry wasn't exactly a master conversationalist and Jake appeared to being doing the best he could with what he had.

It was the adults that had Harry nervous; there were three of them at the table, two men and a woman, and several more spread throughout the house, all of them, save for the three at the table, eyeing him like he was an ax murderer or something.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Jake's question interrupted Harry's careful scrutiny of his surroundings and he turned to blink at the other boy.

"Do what?" He asked, speaking for the first time, outside of giving the other boy his name.

"Squint," Jake demonstrated Harry's expression, but the boy could barely recognize it through his blurry vision.

"He needs glasses," one of the men spoke. Harry turned his attention back to him, struggling not to squint and failing.

Squinting didn't do him much good, but he could differentiate between the men now. The one who had spoke had longer hair than the other, darker too. And his face was a bit more narrow.

It was the oddly fond tone of voice the man had spoken with that had Harry really curious.

"How did you know that?" Harry asked, the words escaping before he could stop them.

_Stupid. Like it wasn't obvious._

"Aside from the squinting?" The other man was chuckling. "It kind of runs in the family."

Family?

Harry froze, stiffened, and stared.

_He had family?_

He'd thought the Dursley's were the only family he had left; Petunia had spat that at him on more than one occasion, like the very fact was an affront to her sensibilities.

"I thought the Dursley's were the only family I had left," Harry ventured after a moments of silence when it became apparent they were waiting for his response.

"Not hardly," came the derisive snort from the second man. "But considering her prejudices, I'm not surprised she didn't tell you about us."

"Us?"

"Hi Harry," Daniel Evans smiled down at his nephew, feeling such a fierce rush of happiness he was surprised the whole room didn't light up. "I'm your Uncle Daniel."

"And I'm your cousin, Jake," Jake broke in, reaching over and grabbing Harry's hand, shaking it with childlike enthusiasm.

"And I'm your godfather, Sirius."

"Seriously?" The pun slipped pasts Harry's lips, again before he could stop it, and he cringed, expecting a beating, only to evoke roaring laughter in response.

"He's definitely Jame's son," Sirius chortled. "Thank God. I was worried he'd be another Lily."

"And what's so bad about that?" Daniel broke in, affronted on behalf of his deceased sibling. "Lily was a wonderful person."

"Lily was a stick in the mud," Sirius shot back, his words tempered by his jocular tone. "I think that's why James loved her so much. She was incorruptible."

"And there was nothing James loved more than corrupting people. Some of the stunts he talked people into…"

It was a powerful thing to Harry, hearing his parents talked about with love and affection rather than derision and disdain.

He wanted to hear more. But first…

"Do you know where my glasses are?"

* * *

Turns out Sirius hadn't picked them up when he'd brought him here.

"No problem," Sirius had stated with a cheerful pat on his back, which Harry struggled not to wince from. He still had bruises from Dudley's last beating.

"We'll just get Ameros to whip you up a pair."

Harry, not having much exposure to the outside world, was nevertheless fairly certain you couldn't 'whip up' a pair of glasses, by a lifetime of knowing better than to backtalk adults had him keeping his mouth quite firmly shut.

Ameros, it turned out, was not one of the many adults scattered throughout the kitchen a dining room.

He held court in a basement room, filled with cauldrons and bubbling brews and it was so like a scene from those horror movies he used to watch from behind the couch during Dudley's annual Halloween Horror festival, Harry's skin prickled with fear.

"So this is the _Alal_," the blur called Ameros leaned towards him and Harry instinctively backed away.

Daniel watched his nephew shrink away from yet another person and just barely kept his urge to growl in check. Having endured years of abuse at Petunia's hands, he knew enough to recognize the signs of a child who really didn't want to be around someone.

The fact that Harry had had this reaction to everyone in the house, save for Jake, had his hackles rising.

Looking over and meeting Sirius's gaze, he was unsurprised to see vengeance swimming in their depths, the set of his mouth and expression on his face making it clear that there was no way in hell the Dursley's were going to escape unscathed from this mess.

"This will only take a moment," Ameros plowed on in the background, bustling around his labs. In her corner, Vapula rose silently to assist him, prompting a startled Harry to jump, not having realized there was another person in the room.

"Can you fix his eyes?" Daniel asked, a ripple of unease going through him. If the boy couldn't recognize that someone was in the room without his glasses, there were in trouble. All it would take was one well placed push or one well aimed spell and he'd be vulnerable.

"Maybe," Ameros stated, peering over at Harry. "Nearsighted, are you?"

_Isn't it obvious?_

"Yes, Sir." Though he wanted to be a smartass, Harry had learned to keep some thoughts and opinions to himself. So far, this family was definitely preferable to the Dursley's, but the sheer amount of adults surrounding him still made Harry a little nervous.

"Hmmm…"

Ameros disappeared into a side room, and Vapula was engrossed in her work, leaving Daniel and Sirius alone with the two boys.

Well, relatively alone.

Tamiel, the ever hovering presence, lurked in the doorway, prepared to throw herself in the way in defense against the _Alal _that couldn't see past his nose without squinting.

"So…" Daniel trailed off, at a loss of what to say to his seven year old nephew who he'd never seen before.

Eight years ago a lot of shit hit the proverbial fan, Lily, James, and Harry being just one piece of the ever growing puzzle.

Before the prophecy had even been spoken, there'd already been trouble in the Evans's family.

For years, aside from having a witch and wizard in the family, Daniel had always assumed their family was the epitome of normal.

Until he turned sixteen, Lily twenty. That was the year their father died. That was the year Leah Nigishdu, his childhood friend, became more.

That was the year everything changed.

In a little over twelve months, both Harry and Jake would be born, prophecies would come into play, over five millennia of careful planning and watching come to fruit.

The fruit, of course, standing in front of him now.

Watching Harry peer around the room, his emerald green eyes taking in the room with unabashed curiosity, reminding him so much of Lily he felt his heart lurch.

A slight noise next to him had him turning to find Sirius staring at Harry with such a raw look of longing he felt like an interloper just watching.

Looking over and meeting Daniel's gaze, Sirius reaffirmed with his eyes what he'd promised with blood so many years ago; he'd do anything, _anything_ to protect this family, _his _family, from those who would seek to destroy them.

It was a solemn promise Daniel echoed in kind; he'd die to protect his son. The fact that he would also die to protect his nephew was a given; blood called to blood. Even though he hadn't known him before today, Harry was family, and you protected your family.

It was one of the biggest lessons he'd learned in his life, driven home by Lily and Leah's deaths.

Family was everything.

"Here we go," Ameros bustled back into the room, carrying yet another bubbling potion, this one a bright, neon yellow that looked more at home in a strip club than a potions vial.

Not that Daniel had ever been to one of those places.

Though, the look on Tamiel's face when Sirius had dragged them in there _had _been priceless.

And so worth it.

"Now, I can't fix your eyes outright," Ameros spoke directly to Harry, like the rest of them weren't even in the room. "But I can start a gradually realignment of your optical nerve and effect repairs to damaged sections of your cornea and lens and you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Harry was staring up at Ameros with a sort of rapt fascination you got when you had no idea what was going on beyond the fact that it, whatever it was, was extraordinary in nature.

Ameros's ramblings had that effect on all of them.

"He's going to fix your eyes," Jake translated for all of them. "But it's going to take time."

"How much time?" Harry asked because, a) he was genuinely curious, and b) it was logical to assume that if this was going to take time, they were going to keep him around for a while.

"Oh, a couple of years," Ameros waved a hand. "I could do it all at once, but you'd be in a surprisingly large amount of pain for quite some time afterwards. Death would be a possibility."

Alrighty, then. Harry was more than happy to wait a couple of years.

"He's still going to need some glasses, then," Daniel put in, just in case Ameros, who had tendency to get a little more obsessed with the potions than the products, had forgotten.

"I know," Ameros replied, producing a pair of black frames fitted with lenses, discreetly handed to him by Vapula.

_So that was what she had been working on._

Daniel had been fairly certain neither of them had said anything to the other, but that was the odd couple that was Ameros and Vapula. They were a mystery unto themselves.

"Just swallow this down, put these on, and you're good to go."

He was a little overwhelming, with his cheerful words and somewhat jerky movements. He reminded Harry strongly of the mad scientist with the heart of gold types, which is why he found himself putting the rim of the oddly shaped glass to his lips and drinking without properly considering things first.

The second the taste hit his tongue, he backtracked and gagged.

"Jesus," Daniel was moving, grabbing the vial and thrusting it back at Ameros before grabbing the boy.

Pounding his back to clear his passageways, Daniel froze when the boy let out a pained whimper.

"Harry?" Sirius was moving, kneeling next to the boy, hands hovering as Harry struggled to smooth out his expression.

"I'm fine," Harry snapped, his voice sharp.

"Yeah, cause normal people whimper like that _all _the time." It was an astute observation, especially coming from a seven year old.

Having a good idea where the bruises had come from, Daniel was sorely tempted to send his son into another room while he tended to his nephew, but judging from the fierce expression on Jake's face, getting him to leave the room would take an act of God…or at the very least, action on the part of the Nephalim, all of whom would rather chew off their arms and legs than harm a hair on the boys head.

"We can help you," Jake continued on, smiling gamely at the suspicious look Harry sent his way. "Really."

Greater people than Harry had crumpled under that earnest stare. The poor kid didn't stand a chance.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Harry was repeating five minutes later, anxiously taking in the closed off expressions of the adults surrounding him and correctly interpreting their silence as bad. The only thing he had wrong was the source. He thought they were angry at him.

Given the kind of life he'd undoubtedly been raised in thus far, Daniel really wasn't all that surprised.

What would surprise him is if any of the Dursley's lived to see their next birthdays.

"We can't kill them," Daniel stated, partially as a reaffirmation of that fact to himself, but mostly as a reminder to Sirius, who was looking like he'd gladly rip one of them, any of them, apart if given the opportunity.

Harry's back was a mess of bruises, centered around his upper shoulders. There was also several hand shaped bruises decorating his upper arms.

Vernon Dursley's only saving grace was the fact that the hands were too small to be his.

His son, on the other hand…

What was the worst, though, was his ribs. Daniel could count

Every.

Single.

One.

This kind of malnourishment didn't just happen overnight.

"Aside from today, when's the last time you had a full meal? Meat and potatoes, the whole shebang," Daniel hastily added when Harry got that look in his eye, the same one Lily used to get when she was about to tell him her version of the truth.

Harry remained stubbornly silent on the matter, leaving Daniel to assume the worst.

"Right, then. Ameros?"

"Nutritional supplements," Ameros nodded his understanding. "Bruise-Be-Gone, probably some calcium additives. And that arm," Ameros reached for Harry's wrist, blinking when the boy instinctively shied away from his grip.

"It should only take a few spells and maybe a potion to fix," Ameros continued, frowning now, turning his attention to Daniel, completely missing the dumbfounded look of shock on Harry's face.

"Spells?" The hoarse whisper had them all pausing in their exchanging of dark, meaningful looks, to look down at the shell shocked boy.

"Didn't the Dursley's tell you?" Sirius blinked down at the boy. "You're a wizard."

Harry scoffed, feeling more at home on this kind of ground. He knew when someone was mocking him; he had years of experience.

"Wizards don't exist."

Sirius and Daniel exchanged an amused look while Jake grinned widely next to him.

Boy was Harry in for one hell of a surprise.

* * *

"I'm a wizard." It was the seventeenth time in the past ten minutes Harry had repeated that same phrase to himself and it _still _didn't feel real.

Daniel couldn't really share the sentiment; Lily had been the first in their family to get the letter and she was four years older than him.

Though Daniel had been assured that magic usually ran in families, he'd seen Petunia not get a letter and assumed that he wasn't either.

When that had come, however, he hadn't been quite as shocked as one who'd never heard of the wizarding world and its realities would have been.

Sirius was no help; as a pureblood, he'd been aware of his magic since birth. Jake, too, had been raised with an advanced, for his age, knowledge of the magics.

So, basically, none of them could accurately sympathize with his dumbfounded expression.

_We could really use you right about now, Lils_.

God, he missed her.

"Will you drink the potions now?" Ameros, who'd been watching from the background, set the array of bottles he'd carted up with him in front of the boy, somewhat agitated by the thought of his work going to waste.

"Do they taste any better?" Harry shot back, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth and cringing backwards.

Daniel didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

He decided to take Harry's unexpected bought of sarcasm as a good sign, since it made it obvious the Dursley's hadn't beat the spirit out of the boy, because, really, crying wouldn't change things and was, all in all, a completely useless activity.

Reaching up to rub his eyes, he smiled faintly as he caught sight of Sirius doing the same thing next to him.

"Unfortunately, no," Ameros stated, not amused in the least as he plopped the potions vials down in front of him. "Drink."

Harry looked like he'd rather chew off his own hand, and, in a fit of sympathy, Daniel gave him some magical aid.

"_Demo Sapor_."

Harry blinked as Daniel waved his hand at him.

"You won't taste it now," Daniel stated by way of explanation as the boy peered somewhat suspiciously at him.

Harry continued to stare at him with that expression as he picked up the first vial and put it to his lips.

Much to his surprise, he swallowed it down without so much as a single bad taste. The other four quickly followed, ending with the vision enhancement potion.

"You might want to eat something before I remove the spell," Daniel recommended as Harry sat there, marveling at the empty vials in front of him. Another curious eyed stared met that statement and Daniel found himself grinning wider.

"I can get rid of the taste, but once I remove the spell, you have to deal with the aftertaste, which, I'm fairly certain, is about as pleasant as the actual potion. There're some chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen."

Jake was out of his chair and racing into the kitchen before he'd finished the statement, Harry following after a brief hesitation but with no less enthusiasm.

"Definitely James's son," Sirius chuckled next to him.

"I don't know," Daniel replied with a faint smirk. "Lily always did have quite a sweet tooth. You remember the Pumpkin Pie incident in your fifth year?"

Sirius's smile immediately dropped.

"That wasn't funny." Daniel was already laughing hysterically, Sirius's current expression so mimicking his original reaction it brought Daniel back.

He'd been a first year, awed by the sheer opulence before him. It'd been the annual Halloween feast and, in an effort to stave off the inevitable sugar rush, the amount of sugary treats had been somewhat limited.

When Lily had grabbed the last piece of Pumpkin Pie loaded with whipped cream, Sirius, who was like the freaking bottomless pit, had decided he'd much rather have the pie occupying his stomach, rather than hers.

He was sneaky, Daniel would give him that, but with years of desert stealing experience under his belt against the female in question, Daniel predicted the exact moment Sirius would get caught.

And get caught he did. Red handed, red faced, red _everywhere_.

He stood out like a freaking beacon. And the best part was none of the teachers would help him, and not even the Ravenclaw's could figure out the countercurse.

Lily had let him stew in his own juices for the weekend and only changed him back to his original color after a bribe of Honeyduke's best chocolate and the understanding that if he ever touched Lily's dessert again, she'd do it again and leave him like that.

"God, I miss her." Daniel's smile lost its humor, taking on a more wistful quality as he, too, reminisced on a woman who was taken way before her time.

"Ameros wants to fit Harry for his glasses," Tamiel spoke, breaking the moment from her position in the doorway.

"And your timing is wonderful, as always," Daniel murmured quietly, but not quietly enough that she couldn't hear.

Her expression gave nothing away as he brushed past and headed into the kitchen to collect the boys.

"You really suck at this 'getting people to like you' thing," Sirius noted, his tone oddly amicable.

"Who says I want people to like me?" Tamiel replied, angling her body out the door, pausing right before her exit. "Besides, what makes you think you're any better?"

Sirius swore he saw the vaguest hint of a smile on the harpy's face as she exited and scowled accordingly.

What absolutely _infuriated_ him was the fact that, as far as comebacks went, it had been surprisingly on the mark.

**A/N: **Ah...well, this is kind of awkward, but I'm experiencing a temporary bought of writer's impotence...with everything. I've been working on it all day today and I _think _it's just due to too much stress so don't abandon hope completely for an update...just don't hold your breath. Seriously. You'll probably die before I update.


	5. Chapter 5

_July, 1988_

Less than thirty days until his, _their_, birthday, and for the first time in years Harry was genuinely excited at the thought.

"Flying is easy," Sirius was explaining, holding a broomstick in hand as he stood in front of the two boys.

From his perch in the tree Phoenix, one of the many, many Nephalim on site, snorted, causing Jake to turn and scowl.

"I'm not _that_ bad."

Sirius ducked his head as Jake turned back to face him, but the action did little to hide the ear-to-ear grin he wore.

"Is it really that hard?" Harry asked, twisting his head from the tree to his cousin, and then following the path back to his godfather.

"No," Phoenix spoke again, peering down at them from the branches. "Jake's just special."

Jake shot him a rather rude hand gesture that had Sirius whooping and Lix scowling.

"Jake," she warned, her tone oddly _mothering._

The Nephalim surprised Harry the most, but their presence had been duly explained as necessary.

"You're the Boy-Who-Lived," Sirius had started the explanation, as if that was answer enough.

"The what?" Harry's blank-faced stare had prompted a shared look of what looked like pained despair and pure rage.

He was still struggling to decide which emotion it was, and what it was for, when Daniel had spoken.

"Harry," his voice had been oddly gentle, immediately alerting Harry to something being wrong.

He remembered that voice; it was the voice the school nurse used to get when he'd show up in her office with a bleeding nose or a black eye. It was the tone the guidance counselor used when he was trying to get Harry to say it was his Uncle who caused the bruises. It was the tone every adult in his life, outside of his Aunt and Uncle, had used when they were about to screw him over.

He'd shrunk back, as if distance could soften the blow he felt was coming.

And a blow it was, just not the kind he'd been expecting.

"How much do you know about your parents deaths?"

"They died in a car accident," Harry reported, with large amount of confidence til he saw the pure rage flash across Sirius's face and the _anger_ in his uncle's eyes.

"Didn't they?" He finished, voice uncertain as he glanced over at his cousin.

Jake…

Words couldn't describe how much Jake meant to him, how important his cousin was. He was his first true friend, the first person he happily claimed as family. He was the first person Harry could ever remember giving a shit about him.

He didn't treat Harry like he was stupid when he asked a question about something magical he didn't understand. He didn't bully or beat him and the teasing was always friendly, coaxing.

Jake, for his part, looked solemn, but grimly interested. A simple exchanging of looks and gestures assured Harry that Jake, while obviously aware they were dead, had about as much of an idea of _how_ as Harry did.

"You were a year old," Daniel started. Sirius maintained his silence; as much as he was a part of this, Daniel was an even bigger piece. This was his story, more than anybody's, and thought Sirius desperately wanted to protect Harry, it was _important_ that Daniel be the one to tell him.

"The war had been going on for almost eleven years. Everyone was scared, but your parents…" Daniel trailed off as he tried to figure out the best way to explain things to Harry.

"Do you know what a prophecy is?"

"Like Nostradamus?" It was the only point of reference Harry had to go on. Sirius bit his tongue to keep from snorting; Nostradamus was an idiot, a squib with delusions of grandeur. What few predictions of his that had come true were partially blind luck, and partially his cousin, Faustus, who had a minor seer gift and a penchant for practical jokes.

"Yeah, like Nostradamus," Daniel's lips twitched in a ghost of a smile as he caught Sirius's gaze and they shared a moment of understanding.

"The thing is, Harry, you have to understand, out there, with the Muggles, someone can make a prophecy and nobody would believe them. It's different in the wizarding world. Prophecies have power, Harry. They set things in motion. Your destiny was on the books, so to speak, since before you were born."

"Nobody except Dumbledore and your parents know the full prophecy," Daniel continued, catching and keeping his nephew's eyes, gazes mutually intense. "But everybody knows its outcome."

"If the prophecy was, is, was," Harry corrected himself with obvious frustration, "then why are my parents dead? Is it my fault?"

"No!" Sirius burst out, unable to keep his silence, unwilling to let his godson, his best friend's, his _Frater Sanguis_, son, believe that his birth had in any way shape or form caused James and Lily's deaths.

"Listen to me Harry," Sirius's fervent gaze drew Harry in, scaring him with its intensity because, though he'd experience his fair share of the darker side of humanity in his brief ten year existence, he had no conscious memory of the true evils of this world, memories that Sirius bore with a heavy heart and soul. It was the fuel to his fire, the passion that blazed deep from within and spilled out through his eyes, catching Harry and _holding_ him, waiting with his heartbeat echoing in his ears for Sirius to finish speaking and release his hold on him.

"It was a war, Harry," Sirius stated. "Understand this: prophecy or no prophecy, your parents would have ended up dead either way. All of us would have ended up dead. Your parents did something very few witches and wizards did: they openly defied the Dark Lord and, in doing so, brought his personal attention down on them. Harry," Sirius shook his head, eyes shiny with unshed tears. "Harry, greater witches and wizards than your parents fell before the Dark Lord. James…he fought with his last breath, but no one stood a chance against _Him_, not on their own."

"He found the house where your parents were," Daniel continued as Sirius ducked his head away, his gaze fixed on the wall.

"This house," Daniel raised a hand and waved it around, expression softened in grief. "Your father…James, he tried to buy your mother some time, but the Dark Lord had put up some kind of ward. He cornered your mother and you in the nursery," the only unoccupied room in the house, "and murdered Lily, but when he cast the killing curse on you…_it bounced back._ You killed him, Harry. _You._ You were only a year old and yet you managed what seasoned Aurors and war mages couldn't manage. And nobody knows how."

"That's where you got the scar from," Sirius stated, his voice quiet.

Harry's hand automatically flew up to his forehead, his hand resting warm against the now throbbing scar, or maybe that was just his pulse. All the blood in his body was rushing, rushing, and he couldn't breath…he couldn't….he….

Everything went dark, quick enough to catch him by surprise, but not quick enough for him to have the one thought every ten year old boy would be having at the thought of swooning like a _girl._

_Bugger!_

That'd been in early June, almost three weeks after he'd arrived here. He'd had time to…not to grow used to the fact, but to become accustomed with the knowledge that he was living in the house his parents had died in.

"It's fitting," Sirius had told him a few days after they'd related the story to them. Harry hadn't been speaking and even Jake had been unusually silent.

Sirius had placed a hand on the wall with a fond smile and glanced over at him.

"The Potters own a lot of holdings, James, and now you, were the last of the line, but this house…James loved it here. He always told me that this was where he wanted his family to live."

Hunkering down til he was face to face with his godson, Sirius once more established eye contact as he spoke.

"The way I see it Harry, you can do one of two things: you can give in to that fear, that disgust, and let the memories and knowledge chase you from here like _they_ would have wanted, or you can stay and fight to live the life your parents would have wanted for you."

It had been said with such quiet conviction and profoundness and Harry had stared up at Sirius, his eyes, a dull, sick shade of green the last few days, taking on a new shine as he slowly nodded.

He'd fight, just like Sirius wanted, like his parents would have wanted. He'd fight and he'd make new memories, better memories, _great_ memories of this place and make it a home worthy of the name.

Which was why he was standing in the backyard, under the warm sun, with a bevy of Nephalim body guards, a snarky Godfather, and a pouting cousin, holding a broom and staring wistfully up at the blue skies.

Harry had always wondered what it would feel like to fly.

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_July, 1989_

"Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

Harry sniggered into his fist while Daniel grinned and Jake made no effort to hide his laughter as a disguised Sirius Black hit on yet another witch, his third for the day which, considering they'd only been there for about a half an hour, was pretty impressive.

This one, unfortunately for Sirius and much to the amusement of onlookers, hit back. Literally.

"I think I'm in love," Gadreel drawled softly from his lounging sprawl against the nearest brick wall where he absently fingered the strings of herbs drying out from a nearby sellers stall.

Daniel snorted at that before quickly ushering the boys away while Sirius made a second attempt with the heavy hitter.

"Are we gonna get our wands today?" Jake practically hopped in place, excited at the possibility.

He'd been practicing the spells he'd been taught by the _Anunnaki_ guarding them and he'd gotten pretty good, but Sirius had told him a wizard works best with their own wand. Jake was more than eager to test that theory out.

"Not until you get your Hogwarts letter," Daniel informed him somewhat absentmindedly as he shifted through potions ingredients. Ameros had given him a list of supplies and Daniel had his own stores to stock up on.

Granted, potions definitely hadn't been Daniel's best subject. He'd been much better at History of Magic and Ancient Runes, but he had enough skill in him to perform the basics.

Jake, on the other hand, was showing quite a talent for the art. He'd been helping Ameros whip up his magical brews since he was old enough to see over the rim of the cauldron and he'd gotten pretty damn good over the years.

Harry had more of a liking for Defense, and trained daily with Sirius and Semyaza, who had developed a liking for the young _Alal._

Eligor still wouldn't go near the boy, which suited Sirius just fine. He liked having his godson to himself.

The others were varied in their reactions. Lix had accepted him with the calm patience of one who was used to children and enjoyed their company, regardless of their innate abilities. Phoenix didn't seem to give a rats ass one way or another, and Dantanian was impossible to read.

Ornias had been banned from his presence after what Lerajie had termed a 'hazing incident', which had consisted mostly of taunting and crass insults to Harry's parentage.

Harry had taken it about as well as expecting, showing himself to be the true son of James Potter and godson of Sirius Black by kicking the Nephalim in the shin.

Hard.

The cursing _Malaakiyn_ had been hustled from the room by a grinning Lerajie and Flauros, the latter of whom had congratulated Harry on his aim and fixed the boy an ice cream.

Caim was about as warm and open with him as he was with Daniel and Jake, which meant that he cooked them breakfast most mornings and that was that.

The Nephalim made the best damn pancakes any of them had ever tasted. He'd had millennia to perfect the art, after all.

Ameros was as oblivious as ever, and Vapula didn't really seem to care about much other than Ameros. Shax changed his mind every day, and Azza didn't like any of them.

Bathin fed them noon and evening meals, but Daniel had yet to hear him speak a word outside of the kitchen.

Vassago tensed up when Harry entered the room, which amused Belphegor to no end, but that was about it. He didn't make snide comments or leave the room.

Tamiel went where Daniel went, trailing along behind them in a sleeveless cloak with the hood pulled up, her face adopting an expression of vague interest in her surroundings, years of practice enabling her to pull of the look without being obvious.

And Gad seemed to find the whole thing completely pointless.

"He's not going to kill us," he'd pointed out drying during one of their Midnight Meetings after the boys had gone to bed.

"You can't say that for sure," Caim had pointed out calmly.

"You can't say anything for sure," Gad had shot back, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the nearest vertical surface, as was his habit.

"Surety aside, we err on the side of caution," Eligor's verdict had been final. Harry would live with them, but they weren't to trust him.

Harry hadn't understood the house dynamics, and Jake hadn't really either. Neither one of them was completely clued in on the why of the _Anunnaki _presence.

And Daniel planned to keep it that way.

Being a kid was hard enough. Being a kid with a big dark destiny was even harder.

They'd have to learn about it eventually, but Daniel was going to wait until that last possible second.

"Bloody witches," Sirius muttered, sliding in next to him and rubbing his rapidly swelling jaw. "Can't take a fucking joke."

"Someday, my friend," Daniel smiled smugly at Sirius, "you're going to a meet a woman who finally knocks the meaning of the word 'No' into your thick skull."

"I think I already have." Sirius gave his best hang-dog expression and Daniel barely held in his laughter, settling for an indelicate snort of amusement as he finished with his perusal and headed to the counter to pay.

The plan was to do a quick tour of the wizarding shopping _agora_, restock some of their supplies, and maybe stop by {Ice Cream Place} before they headed back home.

From outside the shop, Gad went from lounging to alert. Daniel's head jerked around so fast he almost had whiplash.

"What is it?" Sirius asked, playful pup gone as he, too, noticed Gad's unusually alert posture.

"Trouble," Daniel stated, grabbing his recently purchased merchandise and motioning for Sirius to grab the boys.

Tamiel met him at the door, placing herself boldly in his path and pressing him against the wall of the shop, making it look like they were a happy couple pausing for some public displays of affection.

"Can't they sense you?" Daniel murmured into her hair.

"No," Tamiel pulled her top down a little bit, giving him a glimpse of enticing cleavage and a shiny glint of metal.

"What is that?" He murmured, ducking his head and nuzzling her ear.

"A medallion," Tamiel stated, voice solid, not the least bit affected by his half-assed ministrations. "We all have them."

"Why don't Jake and I?" Daniel asked, voice and body tense. If there was a way to help protect them from this mess and the _Anunnaki _hadn't shared it with them…

"It doesn't work for you, only Nephalim," Tamiel replied, somewhat distracted as she caught Caim's eye.

Across the street, Caim motioned for them to start walking.

Tamiel tugged him into motion, looping her arm with his and pasting a smile on her face that could pass as real as long as you didn't look too closely.

"What is it?" Sirius asked, one hand on each boys shoulders as they paced quickly away from the stores.

"Grigori," Tamiel replied quickly as Gad scouted in front of them.

"Here?" Daniel's jaw tightened, his gaze instinctively turning towards his son and nephew who looked confused and frightened by this sudden turn of events.

"They're as capable as we are of entering into this world," Tamiel's tone held a note of censure that sent a spurt of irritation and rage through his blood but he kept it in check as they rounded a corner into an empty alley.

"So? What do we do?" Daniel asked as they came to a stop, Tamiel in front, Gad bringing up the rear.

"Apparate," Tamiel replied. "Sirius with Gadreel and Harry, me with you and Jake. Quickly."

Sirius and Daniel gave each other a quick look before reaching out to place their hands on their respective targets before disappearing with a loud crack.

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Azazel enjoyed his forays into the sea of humanity, counting them among the few pleasures he had these days. His fingers lingered over a particularly ripe strand of herbs, a faint smile tickling at his lips as they withered under his touch.

He waited patiently, eyes enraptured by the frantic curls of the plant under his touch, for his companion to arrive.

"You're early," Penemuel stated, tucking a quill inside his robes as he approached.

"Five minutes early is ten minutes late," Azazel replied glibly enough, turning his attention from the strand to his companion. "And how was your day?"

"Busy," Penemuel replied, walking as Azazel easily fell in step beside him. "I almost can't write fast enough to keep up with demand."

"Humans," Azazel agreed, eyes dancing with wicked glee as he surveyed the masses swarming around them.

"Worthless," Penemuel agreed blithely enough. "But oh what fun is to be had at their expense."

The two shared a grin as they arrived at their destination.

"Do you know why Mesphistopheles called this meeting after all these years?" Penemuel asked as the doorway back into the ordinary world opened in front of them.

"Does it matter?" Azazel asked, stretching his back as he smiled once more.

Every meeting they'd had since their banishment to this wretched place had been a delightful mess of violence and hate – an emotional orgy that Azazel had waited far too long to indulge in.

"No," Penemuel murmured after a moment as they glided through the bar and out the front door back onto the streets filled with the stench of cars and humanity. "It doesn't."

**A/N: **I had a clear vision of where this would go once upon a time and I'm pretty sure I still have the notes...it just might take a while to find them and I have a limited amount of patience. I'm hoping and I can swing back into this story without turning it to complete and utter shit, but who knows?

To everyone who's reviewed so far asking for more, this is for you. Enjoy!


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